


Breezeblocks

by BoiledSweet



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Anxiety, Breezeblocks, Dark, Maybe Yandere, Mental Health Issues, Obsession, Other, RivaMika Week, Yandere Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), male yandere, rivamika
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 00:29:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12971739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoiledSweet/pseuds/BoiledSweet





	Breezeblocks

> _Muscle to muscle and toe to toe._
> 
> _The fear has gripped me but_
> 
> _here I go._

**When he turns around, it's already too late.** She charges at him with a sharp knife in one hand and tries to upend him. He hits the countertop with his hips, holding himself with one palm and other stopping her wrist. When they struggle, the weapon twitches before his face. In the end, his shock vanishes from his mind and he can take control. He pushes away from the countertop and catches both of her wrists. She growls and they scramble across the room.

  
They end up against the bookshelf; her back and hands pinned to leather covers of books. She gasps when they fall at her. He uses it and knocks out a knife from her hand. It lands with a loud clank on the floor on the other side of the living room.

  
She tries to boot him and blurt out of his grasp, but he's pressing her body with his and waits, till she understands her lost. But it never happens. She hits his forehead with hers, making them see black spots, and jumps kicking his stomach. He flies to the couch, and when he feels the soft fabric, stands up. She is already running to him. She pushes him, catches him by the arms and they bestride above the couch - she's barefooted and he's in shoes from suit. They collapse on the countertop, throwing some bottles, and he's trying to overpower her. They struggle - she's pulling out his hair and ripping his white shirt, while he does the same to her dress. Suddenly he grips her hips and turns them around. They are falling on the ground with a loud thud and her silent scream. For a moment they remain still, catching their breaths.

  
He gets up first.

  
But when he only does so, her skinny hand entwines his ankle and tightens like shackles. She pulls and he's losing his balance. In the last second, he stands with his another leg and kicks off her arm, hearing her groan, freeing up.

  
He sprints to knife near couch when he hears whistle above his head. Glass bottle snaps on the wall inches beside him. He turns around and finds her standing between fridge and countertop, her eyes burning with rage. She reaches for another bullet, so he hides behind the couch. Another bottle meets the wall and pieces of glass straws on the ground.

  
He staggers to the weapon and reaches out, grasping the hilt of the knife. When he stands up and makes her notice he has got the knife, her eyes widen in horror. Her mouth speaks silently 'no' and she turns around. She runs unsteadily towards corridor and - what's more important - exit door.

  
He moves after her, passing sofa and sliding slightly on the grey carpet. She glances behind and shudders. They go past the bookshelf and she cries out when he catches her by a dress. She knocks into the wall and pushes him away with her hands and elbows. She turns to the right when she feels his cold touch on the skin and slips out of his grasp. She tries to close the door, but a boot slides between the opening and the door flung open again with a startling amount of force. She stumbles back and hits the sink. On her right, the bathtub is filling with water and behind her hangs a mirror with shelf. Quickly she opens it and searches for anything that can protect her.  
When he enters the bathroom, he stops in door-frame. His breath is unregular and heavy, just as hers, his hair's a mess, clothes tore apart, red marks from her nails on his neck and pieces of glass on his shirt. He slowly makes his way to her, when she takes out shaving knife. Compared to his, it's nothing but she can still harm him. The black paws are grasping her throat and they won't stop choking her.

  
She pushes away from the sink and charges with a knife at his face. He easily catches her wrist and tries to press her to the wall. But then she bites his neck. Hard.  
When her teeth break his skin, he groans and she uses this moment of weakness and swivels them, setting her back towards the door.

  
But he won't let her go.

  
He wraps his hand around her body and presses her to him, almost smothering her. The knives clank, hitting the floor when her hands are between their bodies. She yanks backwards, her heels digging into the floor, trying to free herself. But he is stronger. He drags her away from the door and slams it with a foot.  
She puts her leg behind his and pushes, attempting to flip him over, but he uses it and strengthens grip.

  
The water floods out when they fall into the bathtub. Sha panics when he's above her.

  
She screams and struggles but it's for nothing. Her hands are pressed against the bathtub, her legs underneath his. With his other hand, he grips her neck and coming it to the bottom. Water fills her ears and she can't see properly. Weak. Defenceless. Hopeless.

  
Even now she is fighting, splashing water everywhere. She is desperate, she knows it.

  
Soft sob leaves her lips, when his press on her neck gets stronger, it's like a warning. Because of water, she can't see his face, but she knows his neck is bleeding, staining everything in red.

  
After a while, she's closing her eyes and starts to cry. She tightens eyelids until it hurts and whimpers, shaking her head with unbelievable expression. It was so close. So close.  
Tears mingle with water when he leans down and kisses her eyelid, then cheeks, slowly and delicate. His fingers, still holding her wrists, are making circles on her skin.

  
"I love you" he whispers, and her sobbing turns into the cry. Her mouth shivers, muscles sag. He picks her up carefully, like a porcelain doll and wraps his arms around her.

  
Their wet clothes are merely a barrier between their bodies. She has her hands on his chest, that she can see through his white shirt. She can feel his breath on her neck and collarbone. It's warm.

  
She can't hold her fear and starts to scream into the air, like an injured animal.  
"I love you so much," he repeats, "Mikasa." and then darkness takes her.

 

*******

 

When she wakes up, he is gone. But there are rough snakes, capturing her body. She looks around, except that she sees only darkness. She recognises shapes of boxes near her legs. She tries to move her fingers. He tied even them. She sighs and tips to left and right. Her body hits white walls with a harsh surface.

  
Her mind is laughing at her. Yesterday she was so close. She could even feel the wind on her skin. So close.

  
She grits her teeth so hard they are pulsing. Still too weak. Still too hopeless. It doesn't matter how hard she tries, everything comes to nothing. Waiting, till he lost his alertness, swallowing her pride and tears, hours of planning. All for nothing.

  
It was enough for him coming back earlier. That's all. But why did he come earlier? Why on this exact day? He never ends work three hours before 4 pm. So why?!

  
She wants to scream till her lungs will bleed. It's so unfair. She should be elsewhere, doing something different. She hits her head against the wall in frustration.

  
Suddenly the doors slams and the sound of well-known steps fulfils house. She is closing her eyes, pretending sleep. But her unsteady breath betrays her. Rage and shame are making their way up her lungs. It's him.

  
She flexes her muscles when he stops at the door and the door handle turns right. The door opens, allowing light to rest on her body. She tries not to wrinkle.  
For a moment everything dies down. She flinches when his cold fingers brush away strands of her black hair from her forehead.

  
She knows, he had seen through her act and with hesitation turns her head to him, opening her eyes. He's crouching near her. His gaze is soft. Even relaxing. Thanks to light, she can see she's wearing the same dress. On the other head, he wears the black shirt and the same colour pants. Jacket probably hangs in the corridor.  
Her gaze falls to his neck, where she sees bandage. For a moment guilt whispers in her ear but soon anger slices it.

  
She sharply turns her head away and backs away. He sighs and stands up. She's still looking at the white wall, when he turns on the light in living room, goes to the kitchen and comes back. He sits opposite her and reaches out to her head and unbinds rope on her mouth. When the press on cheeks fades, she breaths out and looks at him. Carefully and nimbly he jettisons of ropes around her hands, torso and legs. After a moment she's massaging her red and scraped off wrists. He stands up and she realises he didn't free her ankles. She looks at him and wants to say something but he catches her hands and pulls up. She stands with her ankles tied together and tries not to show her pain. Her legs become numb and little needles are sticking in her muscles. She sharply comes out of his grasp and they remain like this in silence for three heartbeats. He looks at her, while she's observing very interesting panels.

  
He is the first to move. He goes to the small cramped room, where she had spent hours, and brings out soft, fluffy slippers. He crouches on one knee and delicately touches her leg. Mikasa for half a minute thinks about kicking him in the face and escaping but the rope won't let her. When he slightly drifts her leg, she lost her balance and out of reflex catches his hard arm. Immediately she pushes back as if his touch burned her skin. He hadn't even flinched.

  
He slips one slipper on one and then another toe.

  
His cold hands were never the problem for her, but now she is feeling very uncomfortable under his touch. When he ends, his fingers stay for seconds on right pale ankle and they fall to her injured and bruised fingers, that stick out from slippers. His mouth clamps in the narrow line. The black strands of hair hide his face but she doesn't care, what he thinks. And vice versa.

  
"Now you won't catch a cold" he whispers so quietly she thinks she overheard. In the end, the silence in this freaking house often made her mad.

  
Mikasa's not responding to him and keeps averting his gaze when he stands up. After a blink of an eye, he turns around and goes to the kitchen.  
Unwittingly she looks toward the door. Freedom. If she runs he won't even notice. He's not looking in this direction so maybe...

  
She steps forward, forgetting about some obstacle. She falls and her knees hit the floor. She gasps and tries to turn her legs, but the rope won't let her.

  
She tries to stand up and when she does so, Mikasa notices a hand before her. She snorts and leans on a wall. Supporting herself with it, she slowly moves over it towards the living room. He watches her as she collapses on the couch. Pillows jump because of her weight. She pulls her knees up to her chest and tugs on her dress to hide her white skin.  
She's not looking, when he passed by her and stands behind a sofa, next to countertop. She listens as he opens some shopping net and tries not to look at him when he stands before her. She notices that on his forearm hangs some white and blue fabric. She hesitates for a moment, but in the end, reaches out and grabs both clothes then presses it to her chest. She waits till he leaves her alone but it never happens. Doesn't he want her to change?

  
She looks him in the eye with a silent question.

  
"I can't leave you alone in this room," he says without any emotions. He puts his hands in pockets when her face mirrors his. Soft embrace of sofa leaves her when she puts her feet on the floor and stands up. She tries to not fall back and slowly goes toward the bedroom. Mikasa passes by the kitchen and stands before the grey door. She opens it and all of a sudden looses her balance. In the last moment, she catches the door-frame. She breathes out and she doesn't even have to look to know he stands just a few centimetres behind. After some time he turns around and returns to the living room.

  
Mikasa comes into the room and closes the door behind with a thud. The bedroom is clear as always. In the air, she smells his cologne. Blue walls with white lines and dark, wooden furniture hadn't changed even a bit. She looks to her right and made, looking untouched bed. Grey comforter and white pillows are in the same colour as two lamps that stand on each side of the mattress. Two bedside cabinets from black wood and with two drawers are empty. To be honest, they were never needed except sustaining lamps.

  
Opposite cabinets stand white bookshelf. The majority of them are books like "How to keep the clean house", "The Perfect Househusband" and "Tea from around the world". Near bookshelf stands high wardrobe. Except these in the room is full of many binders desk and a chair.

  
She sits down on a pillow stuck in the chair. Mikasa puts clothes on her lap and taking the dress by its sleeves, raises it before her. It's from silk, soft to the touch. Her fingers glide through the fabric when she touches the bottom. There's no decorations or embroider. But that's how she likes it.

  
She assigns it to the body and notices that the sleeves are three-quarter length, and not on the shoulder straps. She takes off her old dress and puts on new. It's longer, for what Mikasa is grateful, and indentation in the neck is small. The dress is tight in the waist and loses to the knees. It's hard to deny that she likes it.  
In the end, she lifts the blue ball of cotton and notices that it's a simple scarf. While wrapping her neck she feels that it terribly bites. All of a sudden she remembers it's one his favourite colours. Blue. She rips it off and leaves it on the back of the chair.

  
While turning around she catches the sight of well known to her red bottle. She freezes. She thought she get rid of everything. But she was wrong.

  
She reaches out for the object, that reflects red light on her hand. She raises it to her nose, smelling friendly to her from years smell. On the bottom, there's still some liquid.  
All of a sudden, her gaze falls on the frame with a photo, that stands on the desk. For a moment she doesn't move even an inch. She swallows hard, her breath quickens and blood boils. She rises up so fiercely that the chair falls and - as fast as the rope will let her - comes out of the room. He leans on the table and pods the apple. He raises his sight when he hears her heavy breathing. He looks at her waiting for some words but when it never happens he takes her view from head to toe. He puts the knife down and apple to the bowl. He washes his hands in the sink and then approaches her. He is slightly shorter than her but it means nothing. He brushes away a lonely strand and inserts it behind her ear.

  
Even though he washed his hand in warm water, his fingers are still cold. They stay on her cheek and his thumb circles under her left eye. Mikasa wants to cry, as always in the past, when he did it. Snuggle to him, hide face in his neck and start screaming. But she does not. Instead, she stands still. And they stay like this. None of them moves even an inch.


End file.
